


Because...Yes

by zebraljb



Category: NSYNC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 18:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zebraljb/pseuds/zebraljb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris tells his diary how great JC is...and then JC reads it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because...Yes

BECAUSE…YES

 

Because…he was so damned pretty. How could one ignore someone so pretty? I mean, he wasn’t ALWAYS pretty. He was actually pretty dorky in the beginning. The initials “JC”? They stood for Julius Caesar, in my book. He had the hair. That hair was just WRONG in so many shapes and forms. Granted, I wasn’t anything special in the hair department…I’ve heard it all. Pineapple Head, Birdshit Braids. Yeah yeah yeah, ha ha ha. But I think I turned out alright, and so did he. Because he soon ditched the Roman locks and actually grew hair. He went from Julius Caesar to…I dunno…Chris Isaak. And it was good. VERY good. He looked so handsome. He could be a model, in my opinion, but I guess I’m biased.

There was the whole in-between period, where he went from Chris Isaak to Sex God, and I try to ignore that part. The little landing strip of hair on his chin, and that wacked out hairdo that couldn’t decide WHAT it wanted to be. But then, suddenly, he was hot. But, of course, I thought he was pretty hot all along.

 

Because…he’s smart. Most people hear him talk, and they’re like, “Would someone PLEASE shut that boy up?” He tends to ramble, but I think it’s because he has so much going on in his brain that if he doesn’t say something, he’ll explode. And I don’t want him to explode. That’d be gross. See, I ramble, too, but that’s because I was probably dropped on my head as a child, and I tend to just be weird. He’s not like that, though. He’s smart. Not business smart, like Lance, or even me, but he just…thinks things. Things that no one would think if they weren’t on some mind-altering substance. But for him, it’s just normal. He’ll study a painting for hours and then wonder what exactly went through the artist’s mind as they were creating it. Were they only thinking about the bowl of fruit in front of them on the table? Were they thinking how good the apple looked, how rosy and delicious, and THAT was why it seemed to shine from its place between the banana and the orange? Or were they pissed that their wife left this perfectly good bowl of fruit out on the table to rot. That’s his idea of appreciating art. We don’t get it, we say, “Oh, look, nice bowl of fruit. Man, that makes me hungry. Let’s go to McDonald’s,” leaving him to wistfully walk away from the painting and move on.

 

Because…he’s patient. How he puts up with the rest of us, I will never know. He’s second oldest in the group, after me, but I know it’s pretty much like babysitting. I mean, there’s me, the eternal adolescent. I think young, try to look young, and I definitely ACT young. There’s no practical joke too elaborate, no story too small to exaggerate, no song too lame to sing. I’m all about keeping people up when they’re trying to sleep, and hypnotizing those who want to stay awake. I like to keep things interesting, and I have been called annoying, hyper and cracked in the head, to quote a few of the non-profane terms.

Joey’s next. He is so about his baby girl right now, and I’m about ready to throw her out a window. Not really, I mean, I love her to death and I would never EVER hurt a child, but she’s all we hear about. She got her first haircut. She cut her first tooth. She slept through the night. She’s just like every other baby, but you wouldn’t know it to hear Joey. She’s the best at everything. Even Lance, her godfather, has been known to let his eyes glaze over when Joey starts ranting. But not him. He listens with a patient smile, asks all the right questions, and oohs and ahhs at all the pictures. How does he DO that?

Lance. Mr. Hollywood. Getting a little too big for his Mississippi britches, but who am I to complain? I have a clothing line, for God’s sake. Lance lets it all go to his head, however. He tries and tries to make a name for himself outside of NSYNC and it keeps falling apart. He tried managing, and Meredith didn’t really go anywhere, and now she’s moved on to another manager. He tried the whole movie thing, and we won’t even GO into how that tanked. And now it’s the Lance Bass Space Odyssey. We try not to tease, but we can’t help it. We told him he should do a new movie, call it “On the Space Station,” instead of “On the Line.” He didn’t get it, or at least didn’t laugh. Lance needs to get a new sense of humor. But one of us didn’t tease. One of us made sure to buy Meredith’s CD, even though Lance said he could have one for free. He went to the movie premiere, and then went again, buying a ticket this time. And he also bought Lance a little envelope of that Astronaut Ice Cream stuff as a gag gift. We tease. He laughs WITH you.

He deals with the Baby the best of us. Justin’s a lot to deal with, especially with this whole solo album coming out. Who do you think produced four of the tracks? You guessed it. He has always been able to see through Justin’s thin veneer of maturity, has always been able to figure out when Justin’s feeling young and lonely and scared. Then he grabs Justin, whisks him off somewhere, and they do some serious Mouse bonding. I’d almost be jealous, except that Justin is not about guys that way. Justin is just about having someone understand, or at least taking the TIME to understand, and he does that. With all of us.

 

Because…he’s unattainable. How can someone that beautiful even touch the Earth, first of all, and secondly, why in the world would he ever want me? It’s his birthday this week, and all I want is to buy him something so special that he’s speechless. I want those blue eyes to sparkle as he looks at me. He’ll run his hand through that soft hair, and he’ll smile that smile (dimples included), and it will all be for ME. He’ll be amazed that stupid Chris could actually come up with something that would rock his world, and he’ll realize that he has maybe loved me all along. And the rest of the room will just disappear and it will be us and he’ll love me and it will be happily ever after the end.

Yeah, right.

 

“Hey, looky what I found!” Justin waved the red notebook over his head. “It’s Chrissy’s diary!”

“It is not,” I said, annoyed. “Give me that before I change your sexual identity, Timberlake.”

“No. I wanna read. I wanna know your deepest secrets.” Justin danced around the hotel room, holding the notebook high above his head.

“The secret is that you’re an obnoxious child,” I told him.

“That’s no secret,” Joey and Lance said together. I groaned.

“Please, Justin,” I almost whined. I didn’t want that thing falling into the wrong hands. But of course, it did. Right into JC’s lap, where Justin had cheerfully dropped it. The book fluttered open, and I saw the heart I had drawn on one of the pages, with JC’s initials inside, drawn in bright purple ink. Justin didn’t see it, but JC did. He blushed and slapped the notebook shut.

“Here you go, Chris,” he said, handing it to me.

“Uh, thanks.” I gripped it tightly.

“I think you guys need to leave,” JC said suddenly.

Lance and Joey looked away from the television in surprise. “This isn’t YOUR room, C,” Lance pointed out.

“No, it’s his.” JC nodded at me. “And I bet he wants you to leave. Chris and I need to have a talk.”

“About what?” Nosy Justin asked.

“Leave,” I barked, and he jumped.

“Old man, you’re starting to get really cranky,” Justin said, but he left my hotel room. Joey sighed and stood.

“C’mon, Lance. I got some new pictures of Briahna for you to see.”

“Oh, great,” Lance groaned, following Joey out the door. I closed it and looked everywhere but at JC.

“Those were my initials,” he said softly.

“Yeah, I was just…” Lying, an art form I had practically created, suddenly escaped my brain. “I…yeah.”

“Can I read what’s in here?”

“JC, I don’t think you…”

“If it’s about me, I’d like to know.” His blue eyes were sad. “I know you guys like to make fun of me, and I…”

“No, Jayce!” I said, surprised. “I don’t make fun of you in there. Not once!” I grabbed it and flipped open to the long essay I had written about the wonders that were JC. “Read here.”

He slowly sat down, and I flopped onto the bed. I turned off the TV and watched him read, biting at my fingernail. His eyes widened slightly, and he read quickly, flipping pages with a shaking hand. He finally looked up at me. “You think all this?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Since when?”

“Since a while now,” I said, shrugging. Maybe he’d laugh, say thanks, then leave me to die peacefully.

“Wow.” He really looked at me then, and I noticed a definite sparkle in his blue eyes. He slowly ran a hand through his hair, and then he clutched the notebook, holding it against his chest. He smiled, the dimples deep in the narrow face. “You think all this about me.” It was a statement, not a question. I just nodded. He slowly got up and sat down next to me on the bed. I scrambled to a sitting position. “This is the absolute number one best birthday present I could ever ask for.” Before I knew it, he had leaned in and was kissing me softly. JC pulled back, eyes shining with adoration. “Thank you very very much.”

 

Because…yes. I love him. And he loves me.


End file.
